She peered past the pompous butler who protected the front door, at the man who stood in the circle of light on the front step of Dalton House. A naval officer.
Again, he requested to talk with Lord Dalton. “Please give him my card. I am Captain Richard Harding.”
She knew that name.
My father!
Chapter Thirteen
Clarissa rushed forward and jostled the overly protective butler out of the way. “Did you say Captain Richard Harding?”
The middle-aged man turned his attention to her. “I did.” He was only a little taller than her. With his face tanned to a deep brown, he looked as though he had spent his life outdoors. Despite this, he was still handsome.
“Then you’re my father!”
Recognition dawned on his face, followed by shocked delight. “If you are Miss Clarissa Bartlett, then I believe I am.” His smile lit his blue–green eyes. Her eyes.
She threw herself into his arms to hug him. She savored the feel of his arms around her as they clung to each other. She had waited so long for this moment.
Too soon he drew back to look at her again. “You look so much like Mary, your mother.”
“So my aunt has told me, but I’ve never seen an image of her.”
He reached into his coat and pulled out a miniature painting. “This is her. I’ve carried it on me every day since it was painted.”
From the small frame peered the image of a young woman dressed in the fashion popular before Clarissa was born. Long auburn hair flowed around her shoulders and Clarissa recognized her own face smiling at her.
“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t able to find you before now. The admiralty offices gave me all the contact addresses you left for me. This was the last on the list.”
“I’m so glad you persisted in tracking me down.”
“I tried many times to find your mother. Then five years ago I received a lost letter from Mary telling me she was expecting you. It wasn’t until my last return to London that Itracked you to the orphanage through an old landlady of your mother’s. That was after I found your aunt and she swore to me that you hadn’t survived the birth.” His expression darkened.
“She lied to you and to me.” Clarissa’s voice trembled with anger at her aunt’s actions.
Lord Dalton arrived in the foyer and ordered his butler to show his guests into his library.
Behind Clarissa, the butler coughed.
She released her father, and drew him into the house. The butler led them to a ground floor room at the rear of the house.
Once inside, Francis introduced himself to the captain. “I’m Clarissa’s husband, Reverend Francis Brody.”
They gave each other assessing looks then smiled before shaking hands. Both followed Clarissa to a cluster of seats before a bright fire.
She took the sofa in front of the cozy hearth. Francis sat beside her while the captain took a chair opposite.
“We’ve been searching for you. When did you arrive in London? Where have you been? Are you staying for long?” She had so many questions for him.
He looked happy, perplexed, overwhelmed. “I’ve just returned to port after a long sojourn at sea. I expect to be living in London for the foreseeable future.”
He was another reason for Clarissa to remain in London. Her longing to spend time getting to know him was like a raging thirst. She wanted to know everything about him and how he had met her mother. She yearned for that story, hoping it was the great romance she had dreamed of as a child.
“How did you meet my mother?”
“Ah.” His eyes took on a faraway look. “She was acting at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. I saw her on stage and couldn’t take my eyes off her.”
Frank chuckled beside her. “It was the same for me when I first saw Clarissa,” he said, a small smile on his face and his voice full of warmth.
